Page 104 of A Sin So Pure

“You each get five, or are you sharing the five between both of you?”

“Each of us.”

“So, your team gets ten shots? Hardly fair.”

“I really don’t have to participate,” Wrath says, but we ignore him.

“Fine, we’ll both shoot but only count the best of both of our shots.”

“That’s still not quite fair, but fine,” I say. “No using your shadows to help guide your bullets.”

“I wouldn’t dare to cheat like that.”

“Wrath would argue differently.” I point at the man.

“I would,” Wrath agrees with me.

“That’s because Iwouldcheat against him—it gets him all frustrated,” Silas says.

“And you wouldn’t cheat with me because?”

“I already make you frustrated by existing.”

To that, I have no response. He is right.

“Fine. Let’s do this.”

I pull the gun to my shoulder and set my eye to the scope. Locking on the target, I take a steadying breath before pulling the trigger—the pop echoes through the small valley.

It’s hard to see the target, but I know that I hit the bullseye.

I roll my shoulders back, tucking the gun at my side and cocking a brow at Silas.

“Your turn.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he brings his own rifle to his shoulder. His stance is stable, strong; he’s familiar with a gun. It’s not surprising, given most fae use modern weapons, though I’m off-put by his casual demeanor about it.

His shot rings out, echoing between the mountains.

I hope we don’t cause an avalanche.

But no snow comes crashing down over us as we continue. Wrath holds his own, despite his drunk grumblings every time he pulls the gun to his shoulder. We go back and forth, taking our time, until Wrath and Silas’s final shot rings out.

I smile when we make our way to each of the targets, tallying who got a closer shot for each round. It’s close—closer than I would have liked. Three-two, with me coming out on top. And while I know I have the skill to beat them, I can’t help but wonder if Silas went easy on me. As if he knew I needed a win.

“I hope you didn’t let me win to be nice.”

“Gods no,” Silas scoffs, setting his gun down. He leans back on the wall, putting his arm around Wrath, who sits on top of it with the whiskey on his lap. Wrath winces when Silas jostles him. “I let you win so I could force you to socialize with us.”

I huff a laugh, joining them on the ledge and letting my feet dangle. My soul feels playful in the moonlight, my body lighter than before, the lingering shadow of my nightmares nowhere to be found under the stars.

“The wager was that the loser had to cook.You didn’t say anything about the winner needing to stay for the meal,” I say.

Wrath cackles at my technical retort, the deep timbre filling the gorge.

“It seems I might win you over yet,” I say, bumping my shoulder into Wrath’s.

“Say that again when I’m of clearer mind.”

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